Bay Area Bombers With an attack based on walks and taters, Jason Giambi and the happy-go-lucky Athletics are the prototype team of this long-ball era

If your college fraternity ever fielded a team in the majorleagues, it would be the Oakland Athletics. Their clubhouse isDelta House, only with the clothes hung up. Two hours before agame against the Rangers in Texas last week, the typical sceneincluded players sprawled over various pieces of upholsteredfurniture, eating from oversized troughs of popcorn whilewatching an action-comedy, Rush Hour, on the giant-screen TV.

Other players, in Skivvies, whooped and hooted over games ofcards, chess or their absolute favorite, trading insults. No onepaid any attention to four smaller screens showing major leaguegames--not Miggy, Huddy, Baby Huey, G, Chavy or Ralph Malph. Thegang's all here. "You're so small," outfielder Jeremy Giambisaid to infielder Frank Menechino, "you can't even get on someof the rides at Disneyland."

"You're Ralph Malph," Menechino said, likening his teammate to acharacter on the old sitcom Happy Days. "You've got the whinyvoice, the red hair, the freckles, and you don't shut up. Everytime you open your mouth, you complain, and you've got thatvoice that drives people nuts."

Two weeks ago Oakland manager Art Howe did his best Dean Wormerafter a loss in Anaheim, lecturing his team for playing withoutthe proper focus or intensity. Howe later told reporters, "Thisisn't Club Med." That news bulletin nearly sent confused playersrunning to their travel agents for rebooking.

"What's so great about this team is we're all very similar,"says first baseman Jason (G) Giambi, Ralph Malph'sshaggy-haired, All-Star big brother. "We're young and dumb andhavin' fun."

Nearly 30 years ago owner Charlie Finley's Swingin' A's wonthree straight world championships with one of the most completeteams in baseball history. These A's, built on a shoestringbudget, aren't nearly as balanced, but they're having just asmuch fun. Even the brand of baseball they play flouts theestablishment. A Department of Motor Vehicles office exhibitsmore speed than the Athletics, they treat defense as a way ofkilling time between at bats, their pitching is mostly mediocre,and their hitters have about as much interest in manufacturingruns as they do in making license plates.

So how in the world did Oakland, 48-38 and a mere three gamesbehind the first-place Seattle Mariners in the American LeagueWest, reach the All-Star break with a 1 1/2-game lead over theToronto Blue Jays for the wild-card spot? The Athletics havedone it with an offense built specifically to exploit the twomost obvious changes in postexpansion baseball: the lively balland diluted pitching. Home runs and walks--both easier to comeby than ever before--are Oakland's weapons of choice. (For therecord: When the A's homered, they were 39-26; when they didn't,they were 9-12.)

"We are the masters at getting seven runs on three or four hits,"says pitcher Tim (Huddy) Hudson.

At the All-Star break the Athletics were tied for 12th in theleague in batting average (.268) but second in runs (522). Thatis possible because Oakland had hit the fourth-most homers in theAmerican League, 131, many of which followed bases on balls. TheAthletics (428 walks) and the Mariners (434) are on pace toeasily join the Boston Red Sox of 1948 and '49 as the only clubsto draw 800 walks in a season. (Oh, yes: Oakland also had struckout a league-leading 635 times.)

"Even when they're ahead in the count, when you think they'll begeared up to take a rip, they'll take a pass if the pitch isn'texactly in that small zone where they're looking," Texasrighthander Rick Helling says. "They did that some last year, butwhat really impressed me was that now the young guys in thelineup are doing it too. They'll take that 2-and-0 pitch on thecorner and just spit on it. They'll take strikes to get a betterstrike."

"That's us," Jason Giambi says. "Sit around and wait for thethree-run Jimmy Jack." Pafiltes is what shortstop Miguel (Miggy)Tejada calls home runs, a word that he loosely translates as"Pow!" Oakland, which held the wild-card lead last year as lateas Aug. 29 before fading, is making itself heard.

One executive from an American League rival, however, injects anote of caution: "You can beat up on second-line pitching thatway, but the problem is you see much better pitching in thepostseason. I think they'll be in trouble."

Oakland general manager Billy Beane built his team this way outof necessity. Though he would prefer the oldpitching-and-defense model, he says, "This is the mostcost-effective way. You can get hitters for 50 cents on thedollar relative to pitchers. So we're going to try to outscoreyou."

Beane has expertly patched together a contender on $32 million,the sixth-lowest payroll in the majors. He has been able to keepcosts down thanks to a productive minor league system that hasgraduated 10 of its players to the current roster. But the A'ssuccess owes as much to shrewd acquisitions as to a bountifulfarm system. In three deals over eight days last July, Beanestole second baseman Randy Velarde, centerfielder Terrence Long,starting pitchers Kevin Appier and Omar Olivares and All-Starcloser Jason (Baby Huey) Isringhausen for seven spare parts andlefthander Kenny Rogers, a pitcher he knew he could not afford tore-sign.

Beane also has struck gold in recent years with unwanted playersfrom other organizations, such as designated hitter John Jaha,outfielder Matt Stairs and pitchers Gil Heredia, Doug Jones andJeff Tam, plus Menechino, a minor league free agent Beane covetedbecause--surprise!--he takes pitches and gets on base. "It workedfor the Yankees," Beane says. "If you make the pitcher throwenough pitches, you get him out of the game quicker and get intothe other team's bullpen."

That philosophy is preached throughout the Oakland organization.Minor league players are taught, for instance, that they hadbetter have one walk for every 10 at bats. No Oakland minorleaguer is eligible for an organizational award, such as playerof the month, unless he has the right ratio of walks to at bats."So even if you hit 30 home runs in a month, but you don't walkenough, you will not be considered," Beane says.

Third baseman Eric (Chavy) Chavez is a proud graduate ofOakland's academy of hitting. When he signed as the A'sfirst-round draft pick in 1996, he says, "I had no patience atall. I was just up there hacking, swinging at everything."

In his first pro season at Class A Visalia, Chavez walked only 37times and had 520 at bats. The Athletics' instructors drilled himon being more patient. Coaches would throw pitches to him in thebatting cage on one bounce--forcing him to concentrate harder onwhat was a good pitch to hit and what wasn't. Sometimes duringgames they ordered him not to swing through an entire at bat,making him track the ball into the catcher's mitt. "I'm so muchbetter than I used to be," Chavez says. At the All-Star break hehad 38 walks and 261 at bats.

Chavez, 22, leftfielder Ben Grieve, 24, and Tejada, 24, areblossoming stars who at the break had combined for 44 home runsand 170 RBIs, batting behind Jason Giambi and picking up theoccasional scraps he leaves them. Jason, at 29 four years olderthan his brother, sets the tone for this team; his personality inthe clubhouse and approach at the plate are infectious. Thelongest tenured Athletic--the only player with the team since1995--Giambi says his patience comes from having played with MarkMcGwire, the former Oakland first baseman, who tutored andbefriended Giambi. Last season Giambi attended the All-Star Gamein Boston as McGwire's guest. This year he and McGwire, now withthe St. Louis Cardinals, were voted starting first basemen intheir respective leagues. The two buddies chat at least twice aweek by telephone.

"When he was [in Oakland] is when people started talking abouthis at bats per home run and how amazing it was," Giambi says. "Ilearned from him how important it is to wait for your pitch and,when you get it, to slam it. It's an approach where you have tobe confident. You don't always want to be in a hole, 0 and 2, butyou have to know, Hey, I can hit with two strikes."

Giambi has learned well, as evidenced by the steady climb in hisfull-season walk totals: 51, 55, 81, 105 and--if his pedometerkeeps clicking away at its current rate--an Oakland-record 147this year. At the All-Star break Giambi also had a team-leading22 homers. Moreover, he ranked first in the American League inwalks (78) and second in on-base percentage (.474), was tied forfifth in RBIs (78), was eighth in slugging percentage (.624) andwas 10th in batting average (.334).

He's been so steady that he hasn't been kept off base in twoconsecutive starts all season. Giambi has also been a .347 hitterwith runners in scoring position and a .384 hitter from theseventh inning on. Then again, the Athletics refer to battingaverages about as often as they do their actual names."Overrated," Jaha declares. "Getting on base and getting runs inare what it's all about."

When it was suggested to him that Oakland should be the firstclub in baseball to post on-base percentages and not battingaverages on their home message board as each player comes to bat,Jaha beamed and said, "Hey, I'm all for that!" Jaha's woeful .175batting average at the break, for instance, camouflaged his solid.398 on-base percentage.

Even when they pull themselves away from the card games and thebig screen for on-field stretching exercises, the Athletics worktheir tongues more than their limbs. "I played in Kansas City,and [Royals manager] Tony Muser was bigger on discipline," JeremyGiambi says. "We had to have nice, straight lines for stretching.Here, we just kind of go where we want. It's a different way ofdoing things."

Different? The Athletics are quite unlike anything the game hasseen before--baseball's version of Phi Slamma Jamma. They don't donuances well, executing the sacrifice bunt once every two weeksand stealing a base once every three or four days. Happiness isas simple as a good flick, five walks a night and the frequentthree-run Jimmy Jack.

COLOR PHOTO: PHOTOGRAPH BY V.J. LOVERO BASH BROTHER Having learned slugging from his pal Mark McGwire, the elder Giambi epitomizes Oakland's patience and power.COLOR PHOTO: BRAD MANGIN WALKING TALL A's hitters such as Grieve (33 bases on balls) practice taking pitch after pitch, all in the cause of reaching base.COLOR PHOTO: BRAD MANGIN TRANSLATE THIS Even the 188-pound Tejada has gotten into the act, banging 15 "pafiltes" in the first half of the season.

Best of Both Worlds

At midseason the Athletics had hit the fifth-most home runs inthe majors (131), while their pitching staff was tied for fourthin fewest dingers allowed (92). The A's ratio of homers hit tothose surrendered was 1.42, the best in the majors. The Twins,on the other hand, had hit the fewest homers and had the lowestratio.

Before he became the premier postseason performer of his generation, the Patriots icon was a middling college quarterback who invited skepticism, even scorn, from fans and his coaches. That was all—and that was everything